No, you're a TARDIS

So here's an idea I had when I couldn't sleep like two days ago.

Okay, so say I memorize a date. An easy to remember one. For example, I'm going to choose my 18th birthday (April 19, 2008). Now I just have to make sure I remember this date for the rest of my life. So every so often I just think, "What was my date?" and I remember, "18th birthday!" Hoorah. So the reason I remember this for my whole life is so that if time travel is ever invented, then I can come back to that date, a day I'll be expecting myself, and be like, "Yo, time travel, bitch!" That way we'll know if time travel is invented like a hundred years before it is. Of course, in an attempt to avoid paradoxes, you really can't tell yourself anything about the future. But would visiting yourself be a paradox in and of itself? If on my 18th birthday a future me appears out of a machine, yells, "Yo, time travel, bitch!" and disappears again, I'm probably more likely to remember to travel back to that date than just having a date memorized. Bringing the question of where the idea to travel back came from. Paradox.

On second thought, fuck time travel.

god save the queen

Well, I'm going to have another go at it, mainly because I have to get away from my suffocating mother and I've found a much better locale to post from.

Yankee Observations

1. It appears that London as a city doesn't come out in favor of the public waste receptacle. I produce an equal amount of trash as I do back in the states, but there simply aren't garbage cans in the world. There aren't any in the mall, and there aren't any on the street, and there aren't any in the shops. My mother and I have taken to simply leaving our trash in conspicuous places in the hopes that it will be taken care of by someone that knows what's up. Carrying an empty Starbucks cup all over the city really sucks.

2. Our hotel room is something else. The ceiling is really high; higher than the ceiling in my house. It's the sort of ceiling that makes you want to throw a ball up into it, and it's cool to lay in bed and stare up at it. I wish I was here with Bill, because then we could toss a ball from one bed to the other.

3. British television is some kind of monster. Of our hotel's 15 channels, a full pair of them are dedicated solely to pornography. We get as much pornography as we do news and sports. The British have also done something cool with the cooking show, a genre that they appear to love. They combine cooking with human interest, notably in a show called something like, The Taste of My Life, which is like combining cooking with Inside the Actor's Studio. The episode I watched was with the man who I believe was in The Pink Panther, and it was fricking awesome.

4. Brits utilize coins beautifully. Instead of notes for single pounds, as we have for dollars, they have coins for pounds and a coin that's worth two pounds. It's a system that's ten times better than ours, and I love it. The bills take a little warming, but I'm beginning to like them as well. Hopefully us Yanks can learn and adopt a mainstream dollar coin.

5. Harrods is the most amazing store I've ever been inside. It has seven humongous floors, all of them featuring a myriad of what feel like smaller stores. Each floor has around 15 separate rooms of things, and each of these rooms is the size of a store in the mall. A decently sized store, like the Gap or something. We were in there for about three hours, and I think we barely scratched the surface of the place. Everything is really high end and not really in our purchasing range, but it's the sort of place one goes just to be there. The atmosphere was like that of a major holiday.

I assume I'll post again later on with some more observations.